


Calypso Twins Prompts

by BorderSpam



Series: Twins Prompts [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Betrayal AU, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Leda Deserved Better, Not Canon Compliant, Power Shift, Sibling Relationship, Stand Alone Chapters, Tumblr Prompt, baby twins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2020-12-24 20:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21105686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorderSpam/pseuds/BorderSpam
Summary: Collection of Calypso Twins prompt shorts exploring different phases of their lives, character traits, and their relationship as siblings.Each short is stand alone, if there are any you'd like to see explored further, leave a comment!





	1. Heretic

**Author's Note:**

> Extremely new to writing, so would genuinely appreciate any and all feedback! Each of these prompts is attempting to improve on the last based on feedback, feel free to send new prompt requests @ https://border-spam.tumblr.com

Maya whipped towards the source of the metallic grinding sound as it finally emerged into the monastery's moonlit cloister, noting Lillith had already readied her pistol at the misshapen figure.

_Troy_.

Or, what would _once_ have been God King Calypso, mangled as he was now. The Athenian night’s darkness was unable to hide the severity of the damage to his once iconic cybernetics, monstrous arm twisted and disjointed, dragging along the ground with each labored step he took forward. Wiring sparking as it stretched to its limits, barely holding together chunks of burnt out machinery.

Lillith’s sharp intake of breath next to her snapped her eyes away from the arm and to the man attempting to drag it with him as he approached with limping steps. Troy’s bulky fur lined coat and armored collar were missing, the reality of his near emaciation no longer hidden, ribs shifting pathetically under his skin as he panted with the effort of dragging the dead arm with him. Hair matted to the side of his head with blood that glinted still wet in the moonlight, trailing down his bruised collarbone and lacerated stomach.

“Kid.. “ Lillith barely whispered next to her, gun slowly lowering towards the ground “..What the hell _happened to you_?” 

Troy stopped his painful stumbling advance towards them and shuddered a deep breath before slowly raising his head to meet their stares, cocky smile still twinkling golden teeth past the blood that covered half his mouth.

“Oh.. hah.. _this_?” he chuckled hoarsely, turning his torso enough to let the torn and bloodied ports along his upper spine catch the moonlight as he feebly gestured towards his neck with his remaining arm.

“Ahhh. not much girls. Got _**denounced**_ is all. You know.. just sibling stuff.” He chuckled, carefully creaking his neck to the side as he slowly stretched to his full height, shudders running through his battered abdominals as he forced them to respond.

“...High priests decided to make an example of me before excommunication. Can’t be letting a heretic leave intact. Not one that’s fallen from _such graces _with the Queen.” He spat through a forced sneer.

“Couldn’t really do much to stop them if I’m honest.. must be nice being a_ functional Siren_, huh.”


	2. Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of Calypso Twins prompt shorts exploring different phases of their lives, character traits, and their relationship as siblings. 
> 
> Each short is stand alone, if there are any you'd like to see explored further, leave a comment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll wrestle Troy's childhood stutter that he still has trouble hiding when excited as an adult from our cold, dead hands. Extremely new to writing, would genuinely appreciate any and all feedback! Feel free to send new prompt requests or chat @ https://border-spam.tumblr.com

* * *

“Are you _sure_ Ty, mom always said -hh" 

The scrawny boy pauses as he struggles to pull his smaller sister up the cracked wall face by her hand, shoulder shaking with the effort in the warmth of Nekrotafeyo's setting sun.

“Hah.. Mom always said we shouldn’t g-go much further than the entryway. She said it was _dangerous_ further in Ty, it was ok to play outside but.." Tyreen climbs to her feet and dusts off her threadbare pants as her brother sits and catches his breath against the ledge wall. "Mom’s not here anymore.” she states matter of factly, squinting to find the rock opening she knew was here in the dying sunlight.

“And besides.. don’t tell me you don’t want an **_adventure_**, Troy?”  
  
He can _hear_ her grin.

Squeezing through the cracked earth of the sealed doorway had been easy enough, her small enough to fit without much effort and his missing arm giving him more room than a boy of his size _should _have had, but fear creeped into her spine like the chill did in the air of the catacomb as they pressed on. No sound bar Troy’s slightly labored breathing and the crunch of their boots on debris not disturbed in eons. No light bar the faint mauve glow of their combined Siren markings, playing along the walls of the hallway they carefully shuffled down, ancient Eridian architecture all jutting lines and geometric reliefs, harshly outlined against the heavy dark.

This was a _mistake_, she already knew. They should _turn back_, but he was behind her as always. His gangly height even at 10 years old a bolstering comfort at her back. She had convinced _him_ this was a good idea, she couldn’t be scared now. This was the furthest they’d ever been, and wouldn’t dad be so envious when _they_ had a story to tell _him_! They could be vault hunters too, this _was **easy**_.

The minutes tick by, and the fear grows in her tummy. On she marches confidently, pretending to not hear her twin stumble.

"Ty. ” He mutters. She stomps further into the consuming dark as if he’d not said anything. 

“**Tyreen.** " 

Louder, this time, as she stops to carefully toe at the cracked stone floor they could barely make out. 

"Ty how about we just pick up some of this rock junk and bring it back for dad, that’s enough right? I don’t.. _want_ to go much further. The _smell_ in here is.. it’s.. I just want to go back n-now, ok?” He tries to wipe the feverish sweat from his brow and face with his sleeve, leaving a streak of grime across his sallow cheeks. 

“We’ve gone further than we ever have before, we can come back another time w-when I’m feeling a bit more .. better?”  
  
He can just about see the way her shoulders tense in the dim glow of their markings as he tries to convince her, he knows it’s pointless, she’s always been so much stronger than he is, but this place is _scaring_ him. It smells wrong, like the way his mom’s old clothes do now, and the quietness is overpowering, he can hear his heart beat in his ears. It’s not right. “We could prepare and bring some supplies, some lights! Some rope and snacks a- ” Her long, exaggerated sigh quiets him as she dramatically places her hands on her hips, then spins to face him.

A tiny, slender finger pokes into his bony chest, as she blows her sweat matted dark hair from out of her sapphire eyes and stares daggers up into his identical gaze. 

“It’s **ALWAYS** you who want’s to go back, isn’t it.” she whispers, sharp brows furrowed into harsh lines in the dim glow of their markings. “Always _me_ who has to walk ahead and watch out, always you _moaning from the back_, huh?”

She’s waiting for a response, he realises, awkwardly looking anywhere but her pouting face - button nose scrunched up like it always does when she’s about to throw a tantrum. He stares down at her patched up boots, one foot tapping irritatedly next to his own awkwardly big feet, and lets out a long sigh as he slowly lifts his eyes to meet hers. 

“… I’m not trying to moan Ty. You know I’m not." Her expression softens, _slightly_.

"I’d just feel b-better if we have a plan. Look!” He turns and tries to point in the direction they came, as best a proximity as he can in the darkness. “We know exactly how to come this far now. We can go back, get some supplies, and come back with stuff we need! Some food, some lights, it will be great Ty! A _real adventure_!" 

She’s listening now, observing his excitement from narrowed corners of her eyes, lips still pouted. "This time can just be a.. a scouting mission! That’s what dad calls it, right?”

She stares over the high arch of his shoulder in the direction he gestured in, arms crossed and foot still tapping, weighing up his argument, almost comical in her stature compared to her gangly twin, frustrated crossed arm stance attempting to mimic that of an adult’s.

Slowly, she shifts her eyes from the blank abyss ahead, to the gaunt, tired face of her brother, gap toothed smile and twinkling eyes betraying his excitement to see her begin to change her mind.

"Uhhhhhh. ” she groans, slapping her narrow hips with her hands. “Troyyyy, what_evvvver_” She concedes, rolling her eyes as he barks out a quiet laugh. “You win bro, you win. You’re right, like always." 

"I just.. ugh.” She closes her eyes and raises a hand to caress her right temple, repeating the same gesture she had seen Leda perform a hundred times. “I just.. really wanted to try and push further, you know? See more than anyone had before? Dad would have been so impressed when we got back… the _DeLeon twins_, exploring where he had never been!" 

Her voice drops to a whisper ”_Mom too.._“ 

He’s already starting to scramble on ahead as she opens her eyes, fading into the inky darkness, remaining hand pressed against the cold stone wall as he carefully toes forward, eager to return home. "I know Ty!” He calls back, impossible to hide the happiness in his hitching voice. “But this place ain’t g-going nowhere, and we will get so much further next time! Wait and see Ty, we -" 

The cracking sound is **explosive**, a brief, sharp, echoing reverberation that has him duck and cover his ears as best he can, arm trying to protect his head, hunching against the wall as the echo bounces down the pitch black corridor.

The light is even dimmer when he opens his eyes, stark red instead of warm mauve, illuminating the swirling dust he chokes against as he tries to stand, awkwardly tripping as he hauls himself to his feet.

She’s gone, the cracked ground where she stood now an open chasm, swallowing the sound of his rapid heartbeat as he whispers into the dark:

”_…Tyreen_?“


	3. Playing Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of Calypso Twins prompt shorts exploring different phases of their lives, character traits, and their relationship as siblings. 
> 
> Each short is stand alone, if there are any you'd like to see explored further, leave a comment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely new to writing, would genuinely appreciate any and all feedback! Feel free to send new prompt requests or chat @ https://border-spam.tumblr.com

* * *

As the twins grow from toddlers to young children, their parents can’t help but notice Troy isn’t _winning anymore_. 

He can’t seem to pace himself against his sister in their playful competitions. He’s a head taller than her already, but every day she gets just a little stronger, just a little faster, and it’s starting to noticeably upset him.

He’s getting quiet and sullen when she wins every race he loses his breath in, or she’s the first to reach the top of every climb he can’t match her speed on, or when he _get’s hurt_ play wrestling when he can’t break her hold the way he could when they were smaller and evenly matched.

They know Tyreen isn’t doing anything wrong, it’s not -_her fault-_ he can’t keep up and she’s enjoying being able to win, so they step in.

Leda smiling to herself one morning as Troy skids to a stop in their doorway laughing and shouting for his dad to catch up, Typhon huffing after him “_Your too fast kid, not fair, your legs are **real long****! **_”

Typhon smirking at Leda feigning being crushed that night when the boy wraps his arm around her waist for a hug after dinner, “_Ooof, not so hard Troy! You’re getting so **big and strong****! **_”

He beams at her, then his father, and scrambles to find his sister and rub it in that mom said he’s getting so strong now, when she’s still so much smaller than him.

They know this can’t last long, but it’s worth it now to see him happy, _before_ _he_ _understands_.


	4. Starlight, Moonbright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of Calypso Twins prompt shorts exploring different phases of their lives, character traits, and their relationship as siblings. 
> 
> Each short is stand alone, if there are any you'd like to see explored further, leave a comment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely new to writing, would genuinely appreciate any and all feedback! Feel free to send new prompt requests or chat @ https://border-spam.tumblr.com
> 
> Incredible art, prompt, and title name from https://lazulizard.tumblr.com/

“I’m not a _baby_, I’m _NOT_. I’m just… you’re just.. I”

She _can’t_ find the right words, he’s holding the rock she wanted to show dad too far above her head and she _can’t reach_ and he is _laughing his dumb laugh_. He is so much better than she is with words, and now her nose is starting to run and she doesn’t want to cry but she can feel the burn in her eyes anyway.

“STOP _LAUGHING_, TROY!”

But he won’t, and she is so angry but she’s not allowed to hit him, mom says never to hit people when she is angry, she is meant to use her *words* except she can’t *think* of any words to use and he’s still laughing, dangling _her_ rock above _her_ that _she_ found with the sparkles in it and _she_ wanted to show dad. It’s not fair at all, and she can’t help that her little fists shake in anger at her sides, not when he keeps laughing like this at her.

“If you’re not a little b-baby Ty, then why are you so small, and why are you cryyyyying? Hahaha!”

Don’t hit him. Use her words. Don’t hit him. Use her words.

“I.. I.. AT LEAST **I’M NORMAL**” she shrieks at the top of her tiny lungs, and he stops laughing. He’s not laughing _at all_ now.

He’s still holding the rock above her head, _her_ rock, but he’s not laughing. His eyes are red and his breathing is hitching but he is not laughing anymore, and she feels a wave of satisfaction.  
  
He sniffles, once, and the satisfaction fades just a fraction… untill he winds his arm back and _throws the rock at her shoulder_.

It hurts, but she can barely feel it over the rush of rage, she feels like her entire body is on fire. She didn’t hit him. She didn’t HIT him she used her words just like mom said she should and he threw it at her and _hurt_ her but she did everything right this time! 

It’s not fair, and her body feels full of steam and fire and she doesn’t want to use her words this time, so she _pushes him_ hard. He’s so much bigger than she is but she doesn’t care, he threw the rock and it hurt. 

Mom said not to push Troy, Troy isn’t like her and it can be hard for him to fall right, but fall he does, and as he flails his single arm backwards to try and break the landing, the shock in his eyes sparks something else in her stomach. She isn’t meant to _push Troy, he can get **hurt**_. 

The sound his head makes as it cracks onto the hard ground behind him jars her again and she jumps in her skin. She isn’t meant to push him, but she did, and now she will be in trouble even though he was laughing at her and saying bad things. 

He’s crying now, and she wishes he was still _laughing instead_, but he’s crying as he crawls to his feet and touches the blood on the back of his head, and now he’s running towards home and she can keep up fine but he won’t listen to her, she’s sorry but he’s not listening now, just crying.

Mom and Dad don’t listen either as she rounds the entrance to their room just behind him, mom is running towards him and dad is _angry_ and asking her why Troy is crying, why is Troy **bleeding**, Tyreen?

“I didn’t mean to he was _laughing at me _Daddy and he took my rock it was for you??! It was for you Daddy and I know I’m not meant to push Troy but I _used-my-words-and-he-threw-it-at-me-and-it-hurt_” she sobs, Troy’s wails growing quieter as Mom carries him out of the room and into her parents bedroom.

Dad looks angry but he isn’t, she realises, he’s sad too. He bends to his knees and hugs her very tight, her sobs breaking into hiccups that shake her body against his big chest. She can still hear Troy, but barely, he’s quieter now, and Dad is telling her it will be ok, he’s proud of her for _trying_, but she can’t push people. She can’t hit people, even if they say terrible things. That doesn’t sound fair she thinks. That doesn’t sound _right_, but she didn’t mean to hurt her twin and the hot tears soaking into her father’s shirt keep coming, even though she’s not sobbing anymore.

Dad says it’s ok to sit and wait outside his room, Mom will come get her when she can see Troy, but it’s very hard to wait. She sits and picks at her threadbare socks and thinks about the rock, how it feels like the rock is in her tummy now, heavy and hard.

When Mom eventually calls her in, she feels afraid. But Tyreen is _not a baby,_ so she stands and turns the corner into the room, eyes glued to the floor as she walks towards the bed she knows Mom is sitting on.

“It’s ok Tyreen, come here honey”

Troy is sitting on Moms knee with his side against hers . He has a bandage around his head and he looks pale and he won’t look at her, but he is ok.

_Troy is ok_. 

She reaches to take her Mom’s outstretched hand, letting her Mom hoist her onto her other knee, facing Troy. She doesn’t want to look at Mom right now in case she is angry, but she snakes her fingers into the long dark hair that falls over her mother’s chest, and waits to be scolded.

Mom breaths very slowly, her arm around Tyreen’s shoulders, the same way her other is around Troy’s.

“I know it’s hard sometimes, babes.”

“I know things sometimes aren’t fair. But you are twins, you have to look after each other, not fight. You have to love each other even if you are angry. You have to be there for each other when the world isn’t, just like how I’ll always be here for you, ok? ”

Troy is looking at her now, and he looks sad, just like she feels. She can’t reach him with her hands so she gently kicks his foot with hers, and smiles when he returns the gesture.

“_The stars and the moon light the night together. Never forget that._”

Leda whispers, and she can hear the heavy beat of Mom’s heart against her ear as she closes her eyes.

* * *

15 years later

* * *

Nasty, ungrateful _bitch_, Troy fumes as he storms out of their makeshift camp and into the freezing night. He can’t be around her for another minute, not after what she _just said_.

It’s not _his_ fault they are here, it wasn’t _him_ that insisted on coming to this shithole of a planet, it wasn’t _him_ that flubbed the lines he spent so long writing and got them run out of that bandit shanty town today, and she has the gall to call him a **parasite** when he asks for some energy?

He kicks a rock as hard as he can towards the cliff face he’s marching towards, and sinks to the ground when he gets there, wrapping his arm around his knees and huffing into the night air. He misses Dad. He really does sometimes. He knows things didn’t go.. right.. after Mom… well, after Mom. All he has now is Tyreen, and sometimes she seems to just _hate him_. He’s never going to see Dad again. Mom is gone a very long time, he shouldn’t be crying, he’s 23, this is pathetic he thinks, feeling a tear begin to roll down his cheek.

Tyreen says nothing, watching from a polite distance away. She did it again. She hurt Troy even though she used her words, because she was so angry and tired and just.. run down, _she hurt him_.

Slowly, she steps towards her twin, making sure each footstep is loud enough for him to hear, loud enough so he can tell her to leave him alone if he wants. She watches his back straighten a little as she approaches, head raising to glare into the night in front of him.

“…Why do you even keep me alive if I’m such a _burden_**.**” he mutters. That jars her, honestly. She knows why, it _hurts he doesn’t_. She waits till she is by his side, and slowly sinks to the ground to join him.

“You know why.” she whispers, raising her eyes to the stunning night sky.

“..We.. everything here is against us. We have to light the night together, Troy”

She feels him lean a little towards her left side, and takes the invitation, wrapping her arm around his narrow shoulders.

“.. _The stars and the moon light the night **together**_.”


	5. Chronic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of Calypso Twins prompt shorts exploring different phases of their lives, character traits, and their relationship as siblings. 
> 
> Each short is stand alone, if there are any you'd like to see explored further, leave a comment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely new to writing, would genuinely appreciate any and all feedback! Feel free to send new prompt requests or chat @ https://border-spam.tumblr.com

* * *

He hated this fucking planet.

He _hated_ this **fucking planet**.

Huddled under his coat as best he could to keep warm, face pressed into the filthy mattress with knees drawn under his chest beneath him and fur collar pulled over his head like a hood to block out the flashing lights and blaring music bouncing through the grimy room, Troy justified to himself that this was a valid time to wallow in self pity.

Dad had never told him how _cold_ this shithole was at night, he thought, pressing his knuckles into his right eye socket against the stabbing pain that jolted through his skull with each bass thud of the war party’s celebration his sister was leading in the shanty town outside.

Nothing on Pandora was designed to keep heat _in_, and the natives were used to the temperature swing that came with each night cycle.

But he wasn’t a native, and even after 3 years of living with Tyreen among the nomad bandit clans they called their chosen family, he couldn’t stay warm when he was like this. When he was _bad_.

  
Nekrotafeyo had been mild, in hindsight. It stayed a relatively stable temperature day and night, rarely stormed, and the air had been so clean and _easy_ to breathe.

Pandora was so hard on his body. He swung between overheating and freezing most day cycles, migraines and aching joints triggering after. The dust here covered _everything_ and his lungs had never exactly been _good_, now he found himself constantly shifting between antibiotic doses just to keep his breathing functional and open ports uninfected when everything he touched was covered in filth.

The throbbing music wasn’t going to stop any time soon, if anything it was going to get worse as the fervent rave continued into the night. He’d already excused himself to Ty and slunk away into this room earlier, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to follow. She had to keep the swarm of bandits outside celebrating, lost in their trance of praise to the God Twins for another successful raid, even if _one of those gods was currently writhing on a soiled mattress and considering puking his guts out just to try and stop the pain_.

“.. Fuck”, he muttered to himself, cracking an eye open to squint against the strobing lights bouncing through the room through the broken window behind him. Puking would help, it would get the migraine to die off at least, but even the **idea **of moving off the bed right now seemed impossible. He’d _just_ found the right hunched over position that was taking pressure off his aching neck and spine and stopped the room spinning. If he stood up he’d crumple.

  
  
“.. What.. d-do I even.. have” he whispered to himself, painfully trying to shift his hand out from under his eye and reach a shaking arm back towards his coat pocket as it caped him, momentarily regretting removing the much longer prosthetic one before he’d collapsed onto the bed hours earlier.

Pressing his face back into the mattress and _failing to try and not wonder what the fuck it was he was currently smelling while doing so_, he fumbled inside the left inner pocket, trying to find the stash of pills that should be in there somewhere.

He was dripping with cold sweat and shivering at this point, stomach still lurching in nausea and back muscles twitching with each wave of pain ripping up his spine and into his burning skull, but he knew if he turned his head and tried to look back over his shoulder the burst of pain from doing so would mean a cleanup he couldn’t manage right now, even if there was nothing left in his stomach but bile.

Finally skimming his fingers over the small metal box, he shuddered a shaky exhale and slowly brought it towards his face, carefully turning his body as gently as he could to lay on his left side as he brought his arm under him and tentatively turned his head to rest on its side, eyes still screwed shut against the strobing lights illuminating the whole room with each beat.

Thumbing the latch on the box, he shivered out a breath while letting his right eye crack open just enough to take in the contents.

_Fucking idiot, did you seriously not restock…_

\- Antibiotics as always, useless right now.   
\- A handful of generic painkillers he was totally resistant to at this point and mostly kept on hand for Ty.   
\- A _piece_ of his prosthetic’s shoulder spine that had snapped a week ago and he’d put in here to remind himself to repair.   
\- Two very strong anti-inflammatories**** he was relieved to see, and a _single_ dose of the good shit that he’d gotten from that Maliwan doctor the family had “escorted” back to homebase a year ago. 

That would work but it was his last dose and would leave him doped through most of tomorrow too, when he knew Tyreen would need him.

He had so much to process tomorrow, food and medical stocks, inspecting the captives, cutting and editing the footage they’d captured during the raid… the raid who’s _celebration was still pounding through his skull with each second_, he winced.

He closed his eye again and tried to breath in and out slowly, still shivering hard under the sweat damp coat.

Take it now and waste tomorrow, or risk this getting even -w_orse-_.

Ty would understand.. He decided.

_She knew he couldn’t help it, that it wasn’t his **fault** his body was like this_. He raised the pill to his lips and pushed it into his dry mouth.

_She loved him, she’d come find him later once she could step away from being the God Queen and make sure he was ok_. He swallowed.

_She always came to look after him, his whole life_. He pulled the fur back over his face and curled further into himself, shivering as he waited for the pill to hit and for him to pass out.

_She’d take care of him, they were twins_.


	6. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collection of Calypso Twins prompt shorts exploring different phases of their lives, character traits, and their relationship as siblings. 
> 
> Each short is stand alone, if there are any you'd like to see explored further, leave a comment!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- Child Death

“And **that** superfans, is yet another _flawless_ victory for your God Queen.“

Tyreen is all pearly teeth and ego as she steps backwards through the carnage and destruction their war party surrounds, facing Troy as he works to keep her centered on stream, his C.H.A.7 cambot floating in front of him as they advance through the remains of the ravaged camp.

Flashing her a vicious grin, he motions to keep it coming as he follows her lead, stifling a snorting giggle as her theatrics intensify in response.

"These _pooor lil heretics_ thought they stood a chance against our holy family..” she continues as she pretends to be moved to tears, gesturing with over the top flicks of her wrists at the burning wreckage of the camp on either side of them.

Smoke billowing out of half standing shacks, COV bandits chanting in victory as they systematically loot the remaining structures, all as their Twin Gods stream the chaos live.

“..And man oh man, did _they_ learn the hard way that your Gods do not **_tolerate_** that shit.” Tyreen continues as she takes step by cocky step back through the rubble, hyped by the shrieks and shouts of the bandits tearing down doors and pulling cowering survivors from the wreckage all in _her glorious name_.

She stops as she reaches the center of the camp, pausing to pretend to wipe away a tear and sniffle mournfully, then snaps into a huge grin as she spins to look into the camera again.

“But who cares about these losers, let’s get into the _meat_ of the show! We have three eridium tier memberships to gi-”

Troy’s unexpected shift in demeanor alerts her to the left as one of the survivors barrels out of a still standing shack and halts in surprise just beside her. She notices the _confusion_ in the eyes behind the cloth wrap obscuring their face before she does the small knife in their shaking hand, and catches Troy’s finger-snap towards her and reposition of the camera in the side of her vision.

_This was going to be good for today’s viewer count._

“…Well what _have we now_?” she drips through a mocking grin as she takes a step towards the bandit.

“So _eager_ to make an offering?” Tyreen laughs, rolling her shoulders lazily as her Siren marks fire up, Troy excitedly gesturing for her to keep going as he moves to circle them with the camera, getting the rampaging bandits still ripping the town apart behind her out of frame and placing her and this _idiot_ into central focus for the millions of followers watching his stream.

The bandit drops the knife and takes a step back, looking in panic between her and her twin, unsure wether to run or drop to their knees and beg. Not understanding neither would _save them_.

Tyreen can already taste their energy as she reaches her left hand towards them as they begin to cower before her. Their hands raised in desperate supplication towards her, head still rapidly turning between Troy and her, as if he might stop her, as if he _could_, she gloats.

“Well…. what kind of God would I be if I rejected such a _humble offering_?”

The bandit starts to say something to her, to beg, but it’s far too late for that now. Power erupts from her fingertips before they manage the first syllable. Purple bolts of electricity pierce and burn through their torso, and their eyes widen in horror as they crumple to their knees, clothing burning away as their skin splits and hardens.

Tyreen flutters her eyes closed in pleasure, shuddering a deep inhale as the bandit’s life energy leeches from the husk of mummified remains that kneel in front of her and into her body.

“Ahhhh.. delicious” She whispers blissfully, giving Troy’s camera a sly side glance as he silently laughs through a feral grin, kissing his flesh fingers in a mock gesture of perfection towards her.

Then, suddenly, he whips to the side and the grin is dropped, body language shifting from relaxed to on edge. C.H.A.7’s stream light goes dark with subtle gesture of his huge prosthetic, and Tyreen feels a wave of _something unnameable_ in her gut as she turns to take in what he’s staring at.

“_..M-Mom?_”

The kid was what, 7, maybe 8?

Small and malnourished, filthy blonde hair, pale blue eyes locked on the husk in front of her. Standing shivering in the doorway the bandit had emerged from, hands clasped in front of his chest as he jolted with fright at each screama and gunshot from the marauding war party still tearing the shanty town down around them.

Troy is approaching from her right now, hulking shape crunching through the rubble towards her, but the kid.. he’s just staring. Staring at the husk cowering on the ground in front of her feet, taking nervous steps towards it. She can’t tear her eyes away, she can’t..

“Mom what happ-”

He’s stopped now, eyes slowly raising to meet Tyreen’s, and she can’t hear the bandits anymore. She can’t look away, heart hammering in her throat as those icy blue eyes bore into hers. _Icy blue eyes_…

“…Why did you _do that_ to her.” the child whispers.

Troy’s flesh hand closes around her right arm and shakes her gently but she can’t look away from this boy. _Icy blue eyes looking at her like she’s a monster, she hadn’t meant to it hadn’t been her fault that Mom had.._

“…Why did _you do **that** to **her**_?” the boy screams, tears rolling down his cheeks as his fists shake by his sides.

Troy is hissing something through his teeth next to her ear now but she can’t hear him, or the raucous din of her bandits, all that’s here now is this boy, and the memory of the other boy, and the _icy blue eyes that looked at her in terror and confusion as she tried to pry her tiny arms out of the embrace of the shriveled husk of their mother_.

_Not again_.

She barely lifts her hand and the boy’s scream cuts off, flicker of energy almost not registering in her as his husk crumples to the ground behind the other.

Troy violently jerks her towards him and off her feet, staggering against his towering form, but she doesn’t hear him or feel the pain of the vice like grip on her forearm. He’s shaking her _hard_ but she doesn’t register the situation, bandits now crowding around their Gods in curiosity as the Queen seems to falter for a moment.

He spins her in front of him, facing the crowd, and she finally hears him, the “_Get your **fucking** face on and **move**_.” he whispers through clenched metal fangs against her temple.

She takes a step forward, looks up, and lets the character he’d written her slip back on like a second skin.

Feels God Queen Tyreen take control while the woman herself can barely see what’s in front of her feet as she begins to walk back towards the base setup outside the town.

_Dashing smile. Walk. Wave. Walk. Laugh. Walk. Pose with follower. Walk. Pause for echoshot._

Troy’s looming presence a few steps behind her keeps her pointed in the right direction, subtly gesturing to part the crowd in front of her as he stalks behind her near catatonic march onwards, carefully hidden rage emanating from him in _waves_ that prickle the hair on the back of her neck.

Keep up the persona, let Troy guide her, don’t let them see that she’s lost in memories she buried so deep they’d rotted in her guts for over a decade, don’t _let them see, don’t drop the façade he’d crafted for her_.

The first thing she feels again is the sting of his prosthetic’s metal palm on her back as it forces her through the curtained entrance of their shared tent at camp with more force than _needed_, and she slowly sinks closer to the ground with each forward step till she falls to her knees inside the privacy of its confines.

Collapsing in on herself, she raises her palms to either side of her head, and feels the tears begin to spill down her cheeks, breath hitching into panicked hiccups as the controlled persona slips away. Barely registering her twin’s violent snaps of barked orders to the marauders crowded outside.

It’s quiet outside now as they disperse, just her muffled sobbing from within the tent and the stabbing pains in her chest and stomach to break the silence, till she hears the flutter of the curtained entrance and Troy’s heavy, predatory steps behind her.

“Tyreen.. What the fuck was that.”

No response, just more hot tears dripping off her chin as she squeezes her eyes shut and presses her hands to her ears to block him out.

“What the _fuck_. Was **that**.”

_Please Troy no, not now.. I can’t.._

“You’re killing _kids_ now?” He hisses, closer to her, the whirr of his arm as it clenched in fury causing her to jolt.

“Like.. dusting his mother in _front of him_ wasn’t enough right? What the **hell, Ty**.”

_Please no Troy not this, I can’t talk about this now I didn’t mean to hurt mom I.._

“I don’t give a s-shit about the views, and you fucking know it. That was _wrong_, that wasn’t killing _bandits_, what the fuck is wrong **with you?**” He emphasises the last few words, breathing heavily just behind her, flexing and unflexing the mechanical fist in raw agitation.

_… Troy, stop. STOP. I didn’t mean for you to **see** it wasn’t my fault I didn’t know it would happen when she.._

She coughs out a sob, feebly raising her head and trying to choke out words. “I couldn’t just.. He saw it. I didn’t know she was.. I didn’t know and he saw it. God his _eyes_ Troy, did you see? The way he looked at me? I don’t know.. What he.. Saw.. I..”

Silence, bar the heaving breaths bellowing through his nose

“.. So you f-fucking kill him? Wow _"sis”_ you sure did vindicate yourself there huh, better he be **dead** than be without her, or _remember what you did_, right?“

_What could she say. What could she say to him he was right, she’d done it, she’d killed Leda.. it was her fault.._

”..That how you think it should have gone for me?“

She jolts up straight, breath frozen in her chest as he takes another step, directly behind her now, monstrous shadow engulfing her own on the ground before her.

"Troy… What?“

“I said. Is _THAT_ what you think would have been **better for ME**?”

** _ [Full HC and Fics List](https://border-spam.tumblr.com/tagged/my-hcs) _ **


	7. Wolf in sheep's clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyreen makes the mistake of insulting Troy in front of his editing crew, lashing out after a hard night. He gives her some uncomfortable truths about her perceived superiority. 
> 
> Note - Comments sustain me, if there are any prompts you enjoy and want to see more of as a development, gimme a comment about why!

You could feel Tyreen Calypso in the air before you saw or heard her, storming down the corridor towards the COV media department at 3AM, vile mood warping the atmosphere around her as she marched.

She rolled her eyes at the few acolytes up at this time as they scurried out of her way and down dimly lit side aisle as soon as they caught site of her, wide eyed and terrified of finding out _why_ exactly she was so _pissed_.

Another terrible night’s sleep, another handful of wasted hours sitting in the decadence of her personal ship, massive solid gold bed surrounded on all sides by statues and stained glass of her own image. _Alone_. Completely _alone_. Like _always_.

Tyreen could deal with it, she’d dealt with it her entire life so far, it was the norm, and it’s not like she needed the affection anyway right? She had literally _billions_ of people in love with her. There was no one else in the _universe_ as _wanted_ as God Queen Calypso, she reminded herself, tired eyes squinting past the makeup that was smeared under them as her focus stayed unmoving on the door she rapidly approached.

The red “EDITING” sign above it flashed on, off, on off, confirming her target was inside.

There wasn’t a huge amount Tyreen found worked when this mood hit. She could sit and brood on her own, face the reality of her crippling loneliness and deal with some extremely uncomfortable truths, **OR** she could go find her twin. Troy _always_ helped, one way or another.

Crying her eyes out in his tight hug? That helped.

Taking out her frustration and anger on the only other person in the galaxy who _mattered_? That.. helped too.

She stopped at the door and quickly ran her hands through her messy bed-hair, straightening up her mantle and hastily dressed belts. Deep breath in, deep breath out, then she rolled her shoulders, stood tall and regal, opened the door with a press of the wall mounted button, and stepped confidently into the dark room.

_…. to find Troy asleep instead of working._  
  


He was out cold, quietly snoring into the crook of his flesh arm as he hunched over the massive desk he usually edited from, his array of flickering screens laid out above and around him lighting his shape in the dark.

The small editing team who worked directly with the God King paused in silence at their desks as she entered, eyes flicking nervously from each other, to their sleeping lord, to the clearly enraged Queen standing in the doorway.

He was _asleep_. He was meant to be _editing that last stream for release in the morning_. She felt her jaw tighten as she stomped towards him, seething. He was _asleep_ while she was having such a _shitty night and needed his help_, the lazy, good for nothing **asshole**.

She raised a leg and stomped violently at the side of his chair with a studded boot, jolting him awake with a shock as he lurched to the side and fumbled with the headphones that had slipped across an eye, tripping a little over the chair legs as he clambered to his full height and towered over his furious twin.

“Ty- Tyreen.. what are you doing here?” he muttered, side eyeing his team who were doing their best to not make eye contact, typing furiously now in an attempt to not be paying attention to what was about to be a _total scene_.

She felt her anger begin to bubble over. He looked embarrassed, he looked like he didn’t want this to happen in front of his team, and somehow that made it all _the better to do it_, made it feel so much better to let her mouth start running.

“Ohhh just checking up on you, _Holy Father_. How’s the editing coming along? Very important release due tomorrow morning riiight?” She mocked, picking at her nails like this was the most mundane thing in the world, as her twin fidgeted awkwardly in front of her.

“Interesting to see you take your duties _this seriously_, while I work my ass off creating the content for you to butcher. Or! Not even bother to _work on_ it at all it seems?” she singsonged loudly at him, patronising grin widening as she caught the concerned glance from one of his editors from the corner of her eye.

His expression darkened, blush fading to pale skin, and she knew this was a _bad idea_ now. She knew she should stop… but it felt too good to see him squirm like this, be berated and vulnerable in front of the others. She had had a terrible night and he’d been laying here enjoying himself, he _deserved to be embarrassed by her like this. He **deserved** it_.

“..Ty, can we _not do this here_. I’m sorry, I was exhausted, I couldn’t keep awa-”

“_HAH!_”

She barked, interrupting his quiet, calm tone.

“Allllways sorry Troy. Not good enough, get this shit _done_.” She hissed, pointing a finger into the solid line of his sternum, ignoring the _ice_ in his eyes as she squinted up into them, ignoring the tight line of his mouth. His slow, controlled breathing.

“This was meant to be uploaded and queued an hour ago and you’ve fucked it up _as usual haven’t you_. Do I have to do **everything** little brother??” She shrieked up into his face, slamming her hand down on his desk and causing his crew to jump in their seats.

“Fucking pathetic, you have _one job Troy_. **One**, and you can’t even do it. You’re a joke.” She finished with a scowl.  
  
Spinning on her heel with a self satisfied smirk, Tyreen turned and began to strut out of the room, completely aware of the other God’s cold blue eyes burning into her back, knowing that she had gone too far, that she had pushed that _way_ past where she should have in front of staff, but it had helped. It had helped her so much, and her Twin’s embarrassment felt more than worth it.

Troy stood in silence, still staring at the door she had left through, eyes narrowed in controlled rage. His editing team continued to work, refusing to acknowledge that their God had just been shamed in front of them, brought low and mocked by his sister.

They’d seen this happen before, saw what had happened after. A newer member of the team, some cocky Promethean kid, had laughed under his breath when Tyreen was done and had left Troy glaring at his monitors in silence.

Troy had turned, locked eyes with the kid, beckoned him over with a curl of a long finger, and _crushed every bone in both of the little shit’s hands_ in the grip of his prosthetic fist. They’d never seen that idiot again, but they knew for all his snapping fury, God King Troy was not _cruel_ like his sister. He’d not take his rage out on them as long as they didn’t prompt him to, and a shaking sigh of relief echoed through the room as he stalked towards the doorway like a predatory animal and left to track after his sister.

As Tyreen reached her private Sanctum and waited for the scanner to grant her entry, the burning anger and sadness in her stomach slowly faded, only to be replaced with gnawing _worry_ as she entered.

It.. wasn’t the first time this had happened. He’d warned her before, he’d warned her _very seriously_ to not make a scene in front of followers again, that it damaged the reputation he carefully cultivated for them..

And sure enough, she heard the door open behind her, and the heavy footfalls of his boots as he entered.

“Hey, Tyreen.”

She turned to face him, clearing her expression of guilt and facing her twin with an air of relaxation, only to second guess how this was about to go down as she took him in.

He stood calmly, massive frame held loose, flesh palm held gently in the cup of his mechanical fist, looking down his nose at his much smaller sister.

“..Troy.” She greeted. Voice betraying her in a nervous crack.

“.. Look I’m so-”

“Shut your _fucking mouth_.” Troy whispered, cutting her off with only the barest of effort, tone emphasising each word.

_Completely_ in control of what was about to happen, exactly like she knew he would be. He was so much better at _this than she was_. She dropped her eyes to his boots and waited for him to continue. God she _shouldn’t have gone as far as she had_.

“Tell me Ty-die, what’s your business strat for this upcoming financial quarter?”

She winced. Here we go. He was always better with words, ever since they were kids. Never needed to raise a hand to you to flay you to the bone.

Could do that effortlessly with a _silver tongue and gold capped fangs_.

“Who’ve you got in line for the next group of sponsorship deals? Give me the rundown of the numbers. What profit margins are you expecting, what losses, sis?” He piqued, leaning his weight to one hip, tilting his head to glare down at her.

“Troy.. look, point made, I’m sorry I shouldn’t ha-”

“Excuse me.. did I say I was **FINISHED?**” He bellowed, causing her to jump as he took another step towards her, slowly leaning down to lower that _vicious mouth_ closer to her ear.

“Hows that legal dispute over the _DeLeon copyright claim goin_? That one I’ve been spearheading for 7 years now under your nose, you know, that one? Oh..you don’t? Hmmm…”

Slowly beginning to circle her, still hissing questions she could _barely even understand the terminology of_ at her.

“Hows our growth targeting going, _God Queen_? What you got for the shareholders this month end? What you got planned for that? How’s the SnV-merger going, Tyreen?“

She shook her head and raised a hand to her temple, rubbing it delicately as she sighed. "I don’t.. know, Troy, I’m sorry! I get it, I get it, I shouldn’t have done that in front of your team.”

He stopped at her left, sneering down at her in disgust.

“No, you shouldn’t have. But you _love_ acting big around me don’t you Ty, _love_ making it seem like _you’re in charge_ when you’re feeling down and want to shit on me for a while, huh.”

He was right. It had made her feel so much better for a short while, but she should have just come to him privately. She should have put her arms around his waist and cried, and he would have _been there for her_, but she had lashed out instead, and he was _right_ to be pissed now.

“Maybe I’ll do your job for a while and take a break from mine, hmm? Maybe I’ll go on camera and squeeze my lil tits together and drone braindead bullshit at morons while you run the _entire fucking cult_, huh? Would you like that Ty?”

“… Would you like everyone to see how fucking _stupid_ the God Queen is when you don’t have me playing you like a puppet and getting none of the credit?”

She just stayed silent now, waiting for him to be done, no real way to defend herself against his knife blade truths, watching him turn and begin to stalk slowly towards her doorway before pausing at it, resting his monstrous arm on the frame and looking over his shoulder to consider his defeated sister.

"You'd do well to remember who made you Tyreen. Who runs this entire shit-show so _you_ can play at being a God. I don't get anything out of this bullshit.. _lie_... bar easy access to a warm hole when I want a _good fuck_. Sorry you don't have that option... I really am..."

She felt her stomach cramp as he turned to open the door and step through it.

“... Just remember _who_ I’m exhausting myself for next time you find me asleep.”

The door shut behind him.


	8. It Takes Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Troy is just as bad as his sister when it comes to lashing out at the only other person in his life he cares about.

* * *

He’s always hated editing without his own personal tech setup.

Tyreen never got why, she couldn’t. She’s not him, she doesn’t _do _any of the work he does, so she has no context for why this current situation _sucks so much_ for him. Her job is to stay in front of the camera, his is to make sure she’s seen. Keeping her scripts written, her scenes choreographed, her persona in place.

Lighting, overlays, graphical tweaks. Cutting and editing content before he carefully schedules it for peak coverage and unleashes it on their ravenous followers, and he’s _so goddamn good at it_ when he has hardware that _works_.

His media center back in their current base, his personal setup? It’s fully rigged for his dominant arm. The “stupid looking” accessories around his desks that Ty makes fun of? Butterfly keyboards, customisable multi-button mice, key-bound datapads. All ergonomic, all specifically designed to take a lot of the strain off his left hand and be as efficient as possible with it, without having to rely on his clumsy right to carry the slack.

When they are off planet seducing new sponsors, or escorting a war party, or any of the times he doesn’t have access to his own gear? He **hates** it. Sure, he has the software he uses on an echokey, but he has to rely on whatever hardware is available, and it’s never designed for one handed use. 

His mechanical arm is slow, cumbersome. It’s irritating and painful to try and use dexterously. He makes mistakes, ones that he knows damn well wouldn’t have happened if he was _home_ with his own setup. Everything takes so much longer.. and the longer it takes, the more he fucks up. The more mistakes he makes, the more frustrated he becomes, and a frustrated Troy is a _dangerous_ God to be around.

Tyreen can’t comprehend his anger when this happens. All she sees is her twin getting snappy, getting aggressive while hunched over hardware and spitting curses at it. She thinks he’s just being a moody bitch or complaining about a workload she knows damn well he can handle with no effort, so what’s the problem?

He can get it done, he _always_ gets it done. He’s reliable like that. Useful. _Clever_.

Usually he can swallow the anger down, stay locked within his own head till he finally get’s the work finished.

Tonight he can’t.

It’s hours past midnight, it’s icy cold, and he hates Pandoran nights. The bitter air creeps into his joints and his lungs and his ports, chills the metal down into his bones, he can never get warm enough.

The bonfire the rest of the war party are celebrating around in the nearby camp is so damn tempting, but the raiders are too loud. He has to get this finished.

He needs to concentrate and he can’t with their goddamn screaming and chanting. Cringing as they shriek his mother’s name in reverence to their twin Gods, as his sister laps up the attention by the warmth of the fire while he struggles out of camp with this -

“Piece of fucking shit, goddamn ancient broken heap of _ATLAS JUNK!_”

He closes his eyes as the steamy breath from his outburst dissipates around him in the freezing night air, and starts to grind his teeth instead, frustration boiling over.

A sharp pang of pain along the front of his lower jaw reminds him with a gasp and a curse that the recent mod work still isn’t quite healed, and he lowers his chin to his chest and rubs at the tiny line of blood that’s seeped out of the seam under his lip, squinting at the flickering monitor of the small laptop balanced on his knees.

He’s exhausted, he can’t sleep till this _Let’s Flay_ is ready and he keeps fucking up. Stupid.. broken.. WASTE of a right arm isn’t dextrous enough to work with the tiny keyboard he’s hunched over, and even with his coat pulled tight around his shoulders trying to keep what little heat he has in, his only usable hand is starting to numb.

His fingers are freezing, clumsy, and he’s only got his left arm to work with. There is strain in his tendons from stretching to hit the same 3 keybinds over, and over, and over, and he’s not getting any closer to being done. Every step forward and he notices two he has to take back and fix, mistakes he never would have made if he hadn’t been dragged out here, and he is fucking _furious._

This isn’t _fair_. Why can’t he be home? Why does he have to be here, doing this, with ONE hand, just because Tyreen wanted him with her for what.. support or some shit? Where’s _his_ support?

He clenches the useless oversized prosthetic fist laying in the dirt next to him, repeating the movement over and over to try and relieve some frustration. The pistons hiss almost as loudly as the sound of the laptop’s struggling fans, and he gnaws viciously at his lower lip with metal capped teeth as he slams his fingers into the flimsy keyboard harder with each new mistake.

“Oh my godddd, you’re still up?”

He stiffens, hearing her approaching from the camp. Sauntering away from the screaming laughter and cheering of the celebrating COV warband he’d purposefully removed himself from tonight to try and get this done… and he braces himself.

She’s going to _piss him off_.

She’s _already_ pissing him off with that nagging, bitchy tone of voice. Mocking him, like he _wants_ to still be up. Like he _WANTS_ to waste his night and sit here freezing to get this work done for her.

A warm, gentle touch to his left shoulder, and he feels a shudder of anger run down his spine, refusing to look away from the monitor and acknowledge his twin’s friendly gesture.

“Yeah… it’s… not going fast, Tyreen. I figure another couple a hours…” he mumbles into his fur collar, purposefully ignoring her attempts at eye contact.

“Oh. Right… ” She whispers, almost sounding apologetic as she carefully removes her hand from his shoulder, the sound of her feet shifting nervously in the dust behind him breaks the silence for a moment.

“Well, _whatever_, dumbass!” She sings out with a laugh as her persona falls back into place. God Queen active again, all confidence and hubris.

“Hurry up so you can come back to camp, the boys are asking for ya and even **I** -_he grimaces_\- can’t keep ‘em entertained forever.”

The new squeeze on his shoulder is meant to be reassuring, maybe? It’s just irritating him more. Why won’t she just fuck off and let him work. Run back to her adoring fans and leave him to sulk in _peace_.

He whistles in a sharp breath and smiles, still looking straight forward at the night sky ahead, still ignoring her hand squeezing his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah OK Tyreen. Cool. _Cool!_ I’ll hurry up. I’ll just get another hand, will I?”

“I’ll just freakin _wish_, rrrreeeeeaaal hard and grow a new arm, and not have to RELY ON THIS SHIT THAT _DOESN’T FUCKING **WORK**!_”

She jumps back with a fright as he yells and slams the laptop closed with an audible crunch, wrapping her arms around herself in the bitter cold as she ties to salvage the situation.

“Troy.. What the hell man, I was only checking up on you…”

No reply, her massive twin hunches down on himself further in front of her, sharp metal ridges on his spine implant raising in threat as the red light under the black metal plating pulses in response to his anger.

“If this is getting to you just.. stop. It’s OK to do it when we get back if… if it doesn’t, you know…”

She tries to find the right words, gesturing quietly at his modded back, his monstrous prosthetic arm.

“Um… suit your _layout_.”

He twitches visibly, and she waits for his reply, hopeful he’ll come back to the camp now.

“My… “_**layout**”_, Tyreen?”

Finally, he turns to her. Vicious smile not reaching his icy eyes as they bore into his sister, seething.

“Got any more advice for me on my layout… considering who fucking _configured it_?”

It takes her a moment to realise the implication.

The blame.

She drops her hands to her sides in shock and returns his stare. Disgusted expression smeared across her features, mouth slack and eyes narrowed as she comprehends what he’s just _said_ to her.

“I.. I..” She stutters, tears starting to pool under her eyelashes.

“Screw you, Troy” she chokes out, flinging the warm blanket he hadn’t noticed she’d carried from camp for him into his face, before turning to storm away.

“Feeling’s mutual, you nasty little bitch” He hisses in reply, and tosses the blanket into the oil soaked dirt by his side in petty dismissal of her attempted kindness. 

Watching her make her way back towards the inviting warmth of the still celebrating camp for a while, he slowly shifts back to the laptop still balanced on his lap and cautiously opens it, revealing the destroyed screen.

“Oh… **_F_**_**uck**_.”


	9. HC's and Writing snippets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick update -

Hey folks! Been focusing on asks recently and have a ton of ask responses and prompted HC posts here:

[Tumblr HC tag](https://border-spam.tumblr.com/search/my%20hcs)

Next full prompted short is on the way, but wanted to drop a quick update here as there is so much content in that tag (including **nsfw**, so be aware.)   
  
Thanks for reading!


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